Safe Space in the Seventies

Hello again! It's been a little while since we've chatted. But that's okay. I'm sure you've survived drinking tea with a little peace and quiet. Speaking of peace and quiet. I thought I'd share some ideas about safe spaces.

Now first let me preface that I don't know everything about safe spaces. What I do know has come from a friend and some research. Let's start with a definition. My Google dictionary says a safe space is: a place or environment in which a person or a category of people can feel confident that they will not be exposed to discrimination, criticism, harassment or any other emotional or physical harm.

It's just what the name implies; I guess. I would relate it to a safe room in a person's house. A person might go there to avoid a catastrophe or an intruder. I would think some places should also be considered safe places; maybe your attorney's office, doctor's office, therapist's office. They take oaths not to reveal your confidences. So why not consider them safe spaces?

Most of the research I've found likes to talk about safe spaces at schools and especially colleges. That concept is a little foreign to me. So let me talk about a time I needed a safe space and we can compare the situations.

Back in the late seventies I was in upper elementary school. And I suffered with my share of name calling and bullying. Come on, who didn't? And you couldn't always run home to mommy and daddy for help. It just wasn't convenient. But the thought of asking for a safe space was laughable. In fact, there were probably people who needed one more than me. I had my charming sense of humor to help me. Not really! I was just as dorky as everyone else. But one time I created my own safe space. And in the spirit of helping anyone who might need a safe space, I'll tell you my story.

I lived on a little street in Springfield, MO back in my younger years. I was probably in 6th or 7th grade. I didn't know it at the time, but maybe people called it a rough part of town. I don't know. It was home. Around the corner and on the corner lived a family of really tough kids. I won't mention any names, but they didn't like to play nice. I'm not sure what I did, but one summer day I did something that didn't make those tough kids happy. And they were out for me. I needed a safe space and I needed it quickly. I hopped on my bike and headed home. Running inside wasn't going to help. Those kids knew how to knock on the door and ask for me. What did I do instead? I made my own safe space. I dropped my bike in the yard and high tailed it up a tree. I was safely hidden in leaves of the tree as I watched those kids come by my house looking for me. I was still in that tree when they got bored and took off.

Whew! My only problem was how to get down. Dang it! That's always been my problem with tree climbing. It's so much easier to get up than it is to get down. But I made my own safe space. I was protected from physical and emotional harm in that tree. So let's remember that life is hard, but we can make our own safe space. The seventies weren't that bad, in fact I think we might have learned some creativity in those days. Let me know what you think.

The Man Behind the Green

Today is the day of wearing green. I'm sure you have a little Irish in you. I know I do. But did you know St. Patrick, the patron saint of Ireland wasn't even Irish? It is true!

St. Patrick was actually born in Britain while it was under Roman rule. When he was a young teenager he was kidnapped and taken to Ireland as a slave. His job was to herd sheep. During his six or so years in captivity, he turned to Christianity. And one day he heard from God to leave Ireland by going to the coast. He made his escape by hitching a ride from a boat he found at dock. Seems like perfect timing.

When Patrick made it back home to Britain, he reunited with his family and at age 20 began studying for the priesthood. After he was ordained, he headed back to Ireland as a missionary. This is when all the legends began about St. Patrick. What we do know, is that he converted many Irish to Christianity. He used the shamrock, or clover to demonstrate the Holy Trinity. He also established many churches in Ireland.

One myth states that he drove all the snakes out of Ireland. I believe this is a metaphor for Patrick confronting the Druids and converting them to Christianity, therefore cleansing the island of paganism. And really, Ireland never had snakes to begin with.

Patrick died on March 17, 461 and was pretty much lost in the archives until he became the patron saint of Ireland. It wasn't until the 1700s that people started wearing shamrocks to show their Irish Christian pride. Later, they just started wearing the color green. The first St. Patrick's Day parade actually occurred in the United States during the Revolutionary war. Since then, St. Patrick's Day has exploded. Parades go on in cities world wide. Chicago dies their river green and green beer flows all over the place.

So on this day, take a little time to remember the real St. Patrick. He must have had a strong love for the people who made him a slave to go back and share the love of God with them. So please save one toast for St. Patrick and don't forget to wear your green.

Sources: Catholic.org
History Channel

Walkout or Walk up

Today's tea was a medium unsweet tea courtesy of Hardees. It doesn't make a very pretty picture. So I opted for this one instead. Spring is just about here, folks. I've been caught up in a lot of chiropractor visits and haven't taken a lot of time to write. I miss it.

I guess today was National School Walkout Day. I say that because I heard about it, but didn't give it much thought. I mean students leaving school to demand stronger gun control or honoring the victims of the latest Florida school shooting? I'm not sure exactly what they expected to happen. So I was a little surprised to learn that it was today when I walked into the office this morning. Luckily, my principal was on the ball. She sent out an email informing us what to tell the students and what to do and not to do. Then when she realized a lot of students were inquiring about it, she made an announcement before class started.

I figured that would be the end of it. It was in my class. We were taking our end of unit test. Since 10:00 was the walkout time and this was during homeroom, I had my students watching a short video before we made a new seating chart where they picked their seat. No one even mentioned walking out.

Later in the day, I heard a couple of students decided to walkout anyway. I really don't see what good it did. That's when I started thinking about what would make a difference. I read about a Walk-up movement. Students are encouraged to walk up to those kids that are left out, not chosen for group activities,  someone you normally wouldn't talk to. These are the kinds of things that may do some good. I do want to note, that someone attempting this should be completely sincere. I can just imagine what it's like to be sitting by yourself all the time and then someone comes up to visit with you. I'd be a little suspicious. Let's think back to the movie "Carrie".  But if done with real sincerity and continued, I think it could make a difference.

My superintendent send out an email about a talk he had at the high school. Some students participated in a 17 minute event today. He encouraged those students to tell someone if they hear of threats, to treat each other with respect and compassion. Although they don't have to be friends with everyone, they can be friendly to everyone. I can't tell you if these things are going to make a difference or not. I do think Walk-up and being friendly have a better chance of changing our immediate surroundings than a Walkout. I'm wondering if the students will remember any of this tomorrow or next week. I guess remains to be seen. Until next time.

Turning Point

It's been a wild and interesting day. Winds over 25 mph with a little sun and a few snow flurries. I wasn't expecting snowflakes today. And that's what makes life interesting.

Have you ever felt like you've made a turn on your path and you know it's going to get better? I've been thinking about this lately and thought it was time to share. A few years back my health took a turn for the worse. I can't explain how it happened, but every time I'd sit down I had pain in my hips and groin. It was scary. My skin turned red and that really freaked me out.

So I decided to see what my dermatologist thought. He put me on a different allergy medicine, but it didn't go away. I got to the point where I didn't want to sit down. I didn't want to eat and I was weak. I'd sit and cry because I couldn't figure out what was wrong with me.

My doctor (a substitute because mine was on vacation) thought maybe I became allergic to some medicine I was taking. So I changed a medicine. A week or two went by and no change. So I decided on my own to stop taking Pravastatin. It's not a smart idea to stop that drug cold turkey, but I didn't care. And it didn't make a difference.

Luckily for my pocketbook this was during a Christmas break. I remember laying in bed trying to read a Perry Mason book and I'd watch as my lower abdomen jumped up and down. I was miserable! I don't know what would have happened to me if Mom wasn't around. I called her and asked if I could stay with her for a little bit. She came over and picked me up. And when I couldn't stand it anymore, she took me to urgent care. There they put me through a CAT scan and couldn't find anything. Then they decided to do a sonogram of my ovaries and uterus. And that was fine. The most they did to help me was give me some muscle relaxers. And that didn't work either.

Mom made me start eating and that helped some. When I finally saw my regular doctor she told me to do crunches and it's not life threatening. She was more worried about getting me back on some cholesterol medicine. That's when I told myself, "No way am I doing that again." And I didn't. I started taking Plexus Slim and now my cholesterol is normal, but I still have the tingling and pressure when I sit.

And it makes me sad to admit this, but I got plum tired of talking about it. I did sit ups everyday as part of my morning routine. But I never told anyone I was still in pain when I sat down. I suffered in silence.  Then one day I was driving down the road and I truly believe God spoke to me. I'd been listening to some of my friends talk about going to a chiropractor. Now you have to understand, my family doesn't got to chiropractors. When I was growing up they were on the fringe of the medical system. I really didn't know much about what they do. But everywhere I turned I had a friend talking about going to the chiropractor. I'd quiz them about it. None of their problems sounded like mine. But as I was in the car that day thinking about how my friends were getting help from chiropractors, that's when I felt God told me, "What if you tried a chiropractor?" I didn't have an answer. I'd got to the point I expected that this was arthritis or something chronic that I was going to have to suffered with for the rest of my life. It hasn't killed me so far.

Now I can be impulsive, but not with important things like health and money. I've spent months thinking about purchasing a new bed before I actually went out and bought one. This was the same thing. A friend of mine has her whole family go to a chiropractor in a neighboring town. And she had nothing but good things to say about her. But it took me going online to my insurance company and seeing she was in network for me to make the decision to call the office for an appointment.

I called on a Friday and the receptionist acted like I could get in anytime next week. I was shocked. What kind of doctor has openings like that? But I made an appointment for Wednesday and kept it. I didn't know what to expect. I had a little trouble navigating the streets in that town, but finally made it on time, too. I walked in to a bright yellow room that was empty except for the receptionist. I had previously completed all the paperwork from the website. And there were a lot of questions, 195 to be exact. I was nervous because I didn't know what was going to happen. The doctor came out and took me to a room. I answered a few questions and she wanted height, weight and x-rays. We went in another room to do that and she asked me to wait while she developed the x-rays. I sat in the yellow waiting room and played Candy Crush to calm my nerves. I still wasn't sure what was going to happen or how this was going to help me.

After about 15 minutes and a couple patients had come and gone, she came back for me. She had the x-rays lit up showing my hips. She told me my right hip was tilted and I could actually see the pubic bone lower on the right than the left. I also had two discs that were twisted in opposite directions. I had a problem! Yes, someone actually told me there was something wrong! It took an old fashioned x-ray machine and a chiropractor to tell me what was wrong with me. I want to kick myself for not doing this sooner, but I can't. Right now I am too relieved. I've got a plan for how I'm going to get better. I have someone who knows what's wrong and that's why I feel I've made a right  turn to something better in the future. I'm not better yet, but just knowing what's wrong with me makes me feel like I can deal with this. So I'll turn back to my first question. Have you felt like you've made a turn on this path of life and know things are going to get better?